Lane wiped away the tears of anger from her eyes. She drew out the knife she’d stolen from Aleda and took her long black hair in her fingers. Slowly, she sliced the blade through the tangle and watched the clumps fall to the floor.

  She’d need to be unrecognizable, even to her brother. Her eyes were a different matter. The herbs should do the trick, though it would burn, they would change her eyes from deep black to brown. Her Devold mark, she’d need to burn off.

  She popped a cork of a few potions that Aleda had brewed, and one by one tried them on the mark. The last one burned her skin and smoked. Charred flesh was pungent to her nose.

  Lane glanced in the window at her work. She looked like a young boy now, and she’d need a cap to hide her head. There was a tavern nearby, and that might just do the trick.

  Pushing open the door, raucous laughter came from a side table. Many customers from the local mines played cards, and bet while they drank. She still had some coins left, and scooted them onto the counter. The barkeep looked at her and gave a reluctant nod, scooting a small pint of ale towards her.

  A group of men huddled by the hearth with their drinks.. “My son is an initiate,” one man boasted.

  “An initiate, Cafan? Are you sure? They don’t have many coming back from the catacombs.”

  The man laughed. “It depends upon your connections, and the amount of gold you’ve got.” He rubbed his fingers together. “No. My boy will be just fine.” He shrugged. “The Order is gathering up the outsider picks. They’ll soon be rid of them.”

  A large man in boar skin spoke. “Those scum and beggars from the south.” He sipped from his mug. “Glad the Order will be rid of them.”

  “Hear, hear,” several others said in unison, taking a sip of their brew.

  “More of the Order mages roaming around.” The man grunted. “Word has it, they’re looking for a girl?”

  “No, its just for the Choosing. And the clean up. Never forget what Haldar has done for us.”

  They raised their mugs. “Praise Haldar,” they said in unison and drank to his name.

  Lane had heard a lot about this Haldar in captivity. She remembered the blade on the altar and shivered. If Sal hadn’t been there… No, she thought, clutching her glass, I would have found a way.

  She swirled the ale in her cup. The Choosing was happening now, and she needed to find a way in. She needed to become an initiate.

  She felt someone watching her and glanced up. There was a man in the corner wearing a hood that hid his face. It was time to go.

  She finished the ale and slid off her seat. One of the men had mentioned the Order’s Keep. First, she needed to find a place to hunker down for the night. She smiled to herself. Tomorrow, she vowed, she’d be an initiate.

  ***

  Salamin awoke with the warm sun filtering through the window and onto his cot. He was alive, and the pain in his side was much better. That he owed to Aleda.

  Sitting up, he frowned. Something wasn’t right, and he felt a surge of adrenaline. It was too quiet. He expected to hear the clatter of dishes, or voices outside. There was nothing. He checked his pocket and felt the smooth orb. Perhaps it was just his imagination and all that had happened in the last few days.

  “Aleda?” he called out. Salamin put his ear to the door on the other side of the hearth.

  He knocked with a gentle rap. “Aleda?” he called out.

  There was no answer. He grabbed the knob and turned it, opening the door a crack.

  Aleda was lying on the floor, unmoving.

  “Aleda?” Salamin rushed in and knelt beside her. He felt her neck for a pulse. Her eyes stared up unseeing at the ceiling, a beatific expression on her face, and she almost glowed. Her lips upturned in a slight smile. A wave of peace cascaded through Salamin as he gazed at her.

  Her breath was gone, and she had left this world for the other realms.

  Beside her, a cauldron bubbled with a green substance. A circle had been drawn in her own blood around it. She said she was going to cast a spell to protect him. Had she given her life to do it?

  He put a hand over her forehead and closed her eyes. “Luna, luna, passus,” he whispered.

  Like a breeze filtering through the trees, it came to him, forming the words in his mind.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  [Paladin, Tier 2]

  He’d gained a level on this mysterious path. What did it mean? Any rise in power would help him, but the only magic he had was the minor healing spell.

  [The Goddess has granted you Oblivio]

  What is Oblivio, he thought. It was not in his repertoire from the voidpath.

  [Oblivio will cause confusion in the Goddess’ enemies, depending upon your tier and power access. Strongest on the waning moon]

  Salamin drew in a breath and focused.

  Sedwick Draken ? Moonpath Tier 2 ? Class Paladin

  Health 30/100 ? Intelligence 10/100 ? Power 2/100 ? Stamina 20/100

  Abilities: Lunapassus (Minor Healing Spell) Oblivio (Confusion)

  He never had time to process the boy’s powers. The intelligence was well below average, and perhaps that was only reflected in Salamin’s limited understanding.

  Salamin placed Aleda’s hands over her chest. “Rest in peace, Aleda. Your sacrifice will not be wasted. I promise.”

  Most importantly, if her spell held, the Order would not be able to see his oath. He would remain anonymous.

  A yellowed parchment lay beneath her black cauldron. He had almost missed it.

  He paused before the blood circle she’d drawn, not sure if he could cross it. Carefully, he reached his left hand over, and felt the rebuke of an impassable barrier. His fingers burned, and he retracted it. He eyed that parchment, just out of reach.

  This time he tried his burned hand and stopped just before her circle. He poked one charred black finger and effortlessly, he reached in. With the circle broken, he could feel the heat emanating from the cauldron.

  Still with his right hand, he tilted the cauldron and took the parchment. As he unrolled it, something small clattered to the ground. A small sewing needle with rune etchings on the side lay beside Aleda. He pocketed the needle and held up the parchment to read.

  Aleda had written to him in the shadowtongue:

  Blessed by the Goddess, Paladin. You have the orb, the eye of the Goddess. She is kept alive by a thread. You must get the other eye from her enemies, and never under death let them have both. I saw it in her eye, the tearing of the two worlds. Even now Haldar amasses an undead army with her powers and has taken control of the creatures of the shadowlands. You are her champion and her hope, and you are mine.

  Take my sacrifice and go forth. The enemies will be unable to see your true oath. Keep her sacred eye safe, you are the blessed Paladin of the Goddess.

  Benedesi, amatium, getore. Luna passus, passus, oraya.

  As soon as he read the words, the parchment ignited in flame. He dropped it in the cauldron, and the green brew cascaded outward in concentric lines to the edge of the cauldron, then grew still.

  He needed to get into the Order. Into the archives and find the other Orb. He touched the round orb in his own pocket and held it up in wonder. The internal lightning glowed white at his touch.

  Soon, he’d find out what Haldar was up to, but first he needed to find the Keep. Aleda had said was where he needed to start. He bowed his head to Aleda. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  ***

  The market was lively, with cloth and food displayed on colorful carts. The hawkers called out their prices, luring people inside dark huts for truthsaying. They were mostly cons, but some no doubt had the gift.

  Salamin had no money when he reached into his pocket and suspected it had been Lane who took it. It had been about 10 silver, enough to at least get some good food, and a place to stay, maybe a new tunic. He swore under his breath.

  Wagons and canopied booths lined the square, each selling different wares and foods. An aproned man in the back was kneading dough. “Do you know where the Keep is?” Salamin asked, raising his voice above the nearby crowd.

  The man pointed a finger to the right.

  Salamin made his way through the crowd, becoming very aware of his ragged clothing. It was causing glances and attention he did not want.

  At the end of the road, a group of young men gathered in front of a two storied stone building. Rows of steps led up to a platform and a large arched doorway.

  He joined the crowd, who gazed up at the door expectantly. “They’ll choose two commoners today,” he said. “It’s the last day. If you’re just arriving, you’re too late.”

  There had to be about forty of them standing there. He scanned the crowd. All of them were in tattered or worn clothing and were unkempt in appearance.

  The doors opened, and three mages stepped out onto the raised dais above the crowd. Two held staffs and the third held a scroll in his hands. The elder mage spoke. “It is the last day of Ligere, the Choosing.. The only day we reach out to those who labor in the fields. Two of you will be chosen for this path, the rest will go home with honor.”

  Groans rose from the crowd.

  Salamin gazed out at the mass of expectant faces. The chances would be slim.

  The mage’s voice carried over the crowd. “Many of you come to us weary and hungry. The life of a mage is filled with these hardships, and many do not survive.”

  “Who among you is willing to give your life to the greater good? It is not unworthy to not want to make the ultimate sacrifice. Those who step away will be given food and 100 gold coins.” He pointed to the side of the Keep, where several mages held up sacks of coin. “Those who stay will face a uncertain fate.”

  The gold was the key. All but a handful remained. The majority of the crowd scurried over to the food cart, murmuring about the gold.

  “Five of you.” The mage smiled mirthlessly. “Igar, show them the oath.”

  A smaller mage gripped his staff close and gazed down at the supplicants. “Who of you is willing to sacrifice for Haldar?” He took out a dagger from his belt and held it up to them., its silver blade glistening in the overhead sun. “Who is willing to take the oath?”

  “Sir, please, what kind of oath?” a young man spoke up beside Salamin, eyeing the dagger suspiciously.

  “The oath of fealty,” the mage explained. “Fealty to Haldar. That you will give your life without hesitation in his service.”

  The young boy nodded, looking over at his comrades at the food stand, with still many bags of gold left to claim. He sprinted away, leaving only four of them.

  Salamin looked over at his competition. There was a young boy with an oversized cap, looking down at his feet. The other two looked like brothers, young and swarthy.

  The two brothers looked at each other. One stepped forward. “We both are ready to become mages!”

  The mage glanced down at them. “The initiation is not only for the strong, but also those who can contain their fear. Will you come up the stairs to take your oath?”

  The two brothers gazed at the dagger blade and then looked at each other, shifting from foot to foot.

  “I’ll take the oath,” a voice beside them said. It was the young boy with a cap.

  Salamin watched the young boy move fearlessly up the steps. He squinted his eyes. The voice sounded very familiar.